


The Scroll

by Vivien



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Reference to Leia's death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-22
Updated: 2018-02-22
Packaged: 2019-03-22 10:39:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13762368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vivien/pseuds/Vivien
Summary: It was ironic that between the two of them, Ben and Rey’s boxes of possessions equaled less than those of the late Leia Organa and there were only four of those metal containers.





	The Scroll

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Thymesis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thymesis/gifts).



It was ironic that between the two of them, Ben and Rey’s boxes of possessions equaled less than those of the late Leia Organa and there were only four of those metal containers. An old family friend – one of the very few remaining - had shipped them to their new home not long after they arrived.

Ben tucked them into a back closet without opening even one. Rey brushed away his tears and murmured that it would be alright, eventually. As the months went by, Rey volunteered to go through the boxes holding the concrete remnants of a long and accomplished life.

There were many artifacts of Alderaan, gathered over the years, and Rey spent a great deal of time admiring the beautiful craftwork and delicate items. She catalogued each one carefully on her data pad and packed them away, just as carefully. There would be a day when Ben would want to see them, but that time had not come.

There were family holos alongside mementos from the Senate, and a few actual books written on paper and bound in leather. They were in much better condition than the stolen Jedi texts, and when she ventured to show them to Ben, he accepted them with a grave face but his eyes shone with curiosity.

So when she found the odd wooden box in the final box, she didn’t think it would be a bad idea to show it to him.

“Ben?” She walked into their study where Ben was at work, studying the texts. 

He looked up and set down the book in his hands. “Hmm?”

“I found this, and I’m not sure what it is.” She showed him the box. It was carved from a warm colored wood, and it had smooth sides broken by inlaid beams and strange dowels. There was no visible way to open it.

Ben’s face went pale, and he covered it with his hands. His shoulders shook, and Rey took a step backwards. Whatever this was had significant meaning, and she regretted bringing it to him.

He dropped his hands and shook his head. “No, don’t go. I just- I didn’t know she saved it.”

“What is it?” She wrapped her arm around his shoulders as she handed the box to him.

“It’s my keepsake chest.” He turned it around in his hands, examining it. His eyes were shiny when he looked up at her. “It was an Alderaanian tradition for children to put special things from their childhood inside, and when they were ready to put away childish things, they gave the chest to their parents as a rite of passage.”

“Oh,” she said, not sure of what else to say.

“My mother had one. A political enemy found it, somehow, and used a recording her birth father had left for her in it against her. That’s how I found out about Darth Vader. On the HoloNet. With everyone else.”

“That’s terrible, Ben. I’m sorry.” She reached down to take the box back, but Ben held on to it. He began working the beams and the dowels into new configurations.

“It’s a puzzle box,” he explained. “I had to solve the puzzle before I could open it. It took me a while to figure it out, but I was only five.”

The last dowel slipped into its new place and the hidden lid sprung open. Rey held her breath. Ben so rarely talked about the long ago past; it was still so painful for him to be reminded of how much love he’d squandered away. She remained silent, but stepped a little closer and squeezed his shoulders as he peered inside the box.

“I gave it to her when she sent me away. No, I threw it at her and told her I didn’t need it anymore since I had to go away. I was angry, hurt, I just wanted her to be sorry for sending me away.”

Rey twined the fingers of one hand into his hair, soothing and petting him softly as the tears began flowing down his cheeks.

He reached inside the box and pulled out a rough wooden carving of the Millennium Falcon. “Chewie made this for me. Carved it while I watched. I thought it was the most amazing act I’d ever witnessed.”

He pulled out other tiny mementos of the boyhood he’d turned his back upon. A rock from a hiking expedition with friends on Chandrila. Dusty remnants of dried leaves and interesting nut caps. A worn tooka doll, threadbare and missing an ear. An ink quill, stubby and thick, designed for a small hand. 

When he came to the rolled up parchment scroll at the bottom, his hand froze over it and he inhaled sharply.

“What is it?” Rey asked, her brows furrowing.

“I didn’t put this in here,” he said, his voice hushed. He pulled out the scroll and unrolled it, showing the carefully lettered calligraphy reading “I love my mother” framed with hand-drawn borders of flower shapes and swirling curlicues. 

His face crumpled. He hid it in Rey’s midriff, his arm going around her hips, clinging to her as the sobs choked out from his throat. She wrapped her arms around him, bending down to rest her head on his. 

“Shh,” she soothed, rubbing his back. “She loved you so much. I don’t think she ever gave up on you. Not really.”

“I gave up on her,” he sobbed. “I’ll never be able to make up for that.”

Rey kissed the top of his head. “I know. But she’d want you to try. She’d want you to love and be loved. And you are, Ben. You are loved.”

That made him cry harder, but Rey knew that these were tears that needed to be shed. She would hold him and let them come, and then there would be that much more healing.


End file.
